Shell Shocked (The Cosmic Carapace, #1) Read Online Free Page A

like a collar in his lamb bhuna.
    It suddenly occurred to him that up until now he hadn't really been much of a host, he was pretty sure he should have made the tea for starters. Then again, he didn't have a bloody clue who this guy was and he had already had a very rough day and a great deal of alcohol. He asked a question he thought he was jolly well entitled to ask.
    “Who the bloody hell are you?!”
    “Spangler my boy, Arthur Chesterton Spangler.”
    He sat opposite Spencer beaming a grin as he wiggled his eyebrows.
    “Oh. OK.” Spencer realised this actually didn't help him that much. This clearly required some deeper investigative questioning. He thought hard.
    “What do you want?” Brilliant, thought Spencer. Brilliant.
    “Well you of course my boy!” This was an unexpected and slightly troubling answer, thankfully he carried on.
    “I want you to come and work for me. Join my little team. Ah yes, we have a fantastic team, all eager, all keen, and all of them... enjoy the work.”
    He waggled his eyebrows to such an extent that Spencer was pretty sure they were going to jump from his face and crawl off to join the wildlife under the fridge.
    Spencer was acutely aware of how suddenly and desperately bleak his employment opportunities were at the moment. He turned and looked into the bright blue eyes.
    “You’re offering me a job?”
    “Of course my boy! The pay is double what you were earning for the council snooping you did, but you will have to work hard!” At these last words he waggled his finger and rose, picking up his tea and downing it in one.
    “I must dash I have many things to do today! Oh yes indeed!” The man seemed to almost verbalise the exclamation marks.
    “Look, how did you know where to find me? How did you know I'd lost my job?” He was already heading for the front door with Spencer in pursuit.
    The old man looked around the tiny bedsit, his eyes scanning the walls. Spencer could feel a prickle of heat run down the back of his neck. The walls were covered with newspaper articles, handwritten notes and lengths of string which joined various parts between the drawing pins which held them there.
    Spangler took a slow breath. “I see you’ve been noticing things for quite a while.”
    Spencer could feel panic rising now. He’d never spoken to anyone about the things he’d noticed. He’d only laid it out across his walls since Lisa had stopped coming around, previously having it hidden in drawers. He said nothing, not wanting to sound crazy.
    “I can answer all of your questions Spencer. If you do not believe me, I suggest you have a look at the moon tonight.” He’d answered in the same faraway tone as when he’d scanned the walls, but the moment he stopped talking he snapped out of it and leapt to his feet.
    “I shall see you tomorrow at 8am my boy, until then!”
    “Wait!” Spencer leapt up from the table and instantly realised that although from the waist up the tea had sobered him considerably, his legs remained at least 48% whisky. His foot hit the corner of the table and he fell, sprawling on the floor. He opened one eye slowly and saw golden handwriting on a thin card of white paper lying next to him. 8pm, Ingress, Bushy Park, London. Bring the tortoise.

3

Ingress
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    S pencer woke up to the sound of his phone alarm. It played an annoying melody that every morning he swore he'd change, but promptly forgot. He sat up and looked towards the end of the bed. There was the tortoise. Staring at him. It was exactly where he’d left it last night, sat in an old cardboard box he’d found at the end of Mr Singh's garden, with only a limp piece of lettuce for company.
    The light seeping through his fading curtains was dulled, suggesting it was another grey day in London. Either that or a lorry had parked outside again blocking the light. He yawned, making his way to the tiny bathroom, aware of the tortoise's eyes burning a hole in the back of his